


Duty, Above and Beyond

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: D'Art plays a male prostitute but nothing gets further than kissing/fondling, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:18:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2648405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not so much d'Art in distress as it is the inseparables this time.</p><p>Nothing graphic, mostly fondling and kissing.</p><p>Been working on this on and off this week. With work, dr. appts., I wasn't sure I'd get this posted. But got back from a lovely lunch today with my cousin for my birthday, which is today. So I then jumped back on the computer to finish this up to post. </p><p>My birthday present to you faithful readers.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duty, Above and Beyond

*Captain Treville’s office*

“Do you think you can pull this off?” Treville hated, simply hated to send his youngest soldier on an assignment such as this. Wearily he rubbed the back of his neck, his other hand itched to retrieve a flask hidden in the top left hand drawer of his desk. Perhaps when the boy departed there would be time enough to indulge. Damn Rochefort to Hades and back for telling him d’Artagnan was the only Musketeer who could take on this job! If this didn’t have to do with Mantel Dunstan, the revolutionist who had been threatening dire things against King Louis, he would have told Rochefort where to shove it.

Unconcerned, d’Artagnan was happy as a Lark to be going on another solo mission without his dear brothers breathing down his neck. He loved them but there were times, as all older brothers could, be a pain in the ass. The only tricky part of this assignment was if he could play the part of a male prostitute. D’Artagnan had never witnessed men together in such a way so he could only use his instincts, which had never let him down before. He wasn’t born yesterday as he kept trying to point out to Aramis, who was forever teasing d’Artagnan about his youthful innocence and outlook on life. “I’m sure I can improvise to a certain degree without actually having to follow through on any promises made in trade for information, sir.”

“You do know I’m not forcing you to do this, son?” Treville observed d’Artagnan’s stoic expression and sighed. Stubborn Gascon he thought and who was he to talk since he had the same Gascon blood running through his veins. He dreaded what Athos would say to him if he ever found out what d’Artagnan’s mission entailed.

“Comte Rochefort told you I was the only one qualified for this mission, did he not?”

“Yes,” Treville snapped, his patience was nearly thread bare still worrying over how the inseparables will react over this. “That doesn’t mean *I* want you to go.”

“How would it look in his eyes if I refused?”

“I honestly could care less.” Treville stood up and leaned forward, palms resting on top of his desk. “It’s you I’m mostly concerned with.” Walking around the huge oak desk, Treville sat on the edge, arms folded as he considered the young Musketeer. “There could be mental repercussions from doing something of this nature. Have you thought of that?”

“If there are I’ll deal with them as I have with everything else so far, sir.” To d’Artagnan, nothing could ever be as devastating as having his father die in his arms. He had learned to live with that dreadful memory, putting it under lock and key in a corner of his mind. D’Artagnan would do the same when this mission was completed. Pushing it so far back into the tiny recesses of his brain that it wouldn’t reach him.

“No one else will know about this but the three of us,” Treville gave the youngster a sharp look. “Do I make myself clear?”

“How are you going to keep *them* out of the picture,” d’Artagnan frowned.

“God only knows,” Treville’s voice roughened slightly. “My worst fear is if Athos finds out about this. I doubt my life would be worth a plug nickel.”

Arching a brow, d’Artagnan stared at his captain with curious eyes. “It’s not your idea,” he reminded the older man. “If vengeance, thy name is Athos, crashes down on anyone’s head… be it on Rochefort’s,” he commented dismissively.

The first genuine laugh escaped Treville’s lips since this whole proposition was laid at his feet. His eyes twinkled with mirth. “Ah, yes, I can see it now,” he waved his hand. “Swords drawn and at each other’s throats over your virtue.”

Eyes twinkling at the visual Treville’s words created, d’Artagnan grinned. “If that is all, sir, I better gather up my supplies and get Zad ready to go. I’ll leave by morning light.”

“I’ll write down the directions to The Hawk’s Eye Tavern before you leave. It’s in the town of Clichy and shouldn’t take you but a few hours out of your way. Treville quickly jotted it down on some note paper and handed it off to the boy. “It’s a front for the business it is truly known for,” he remarked dryly.

“Yes, well,” d’Artagnan winced, “I’ll get introduced to that part shortly after my arrival there I’m sure.”

“Go with God’s grace and,” Treville couldn’t resist teasing the lad, “if at all possible... keep your pants on.” Hearing the youngster’s snort as he quickly left the office lightened the old soldier’s heart.

++++

*Musketeer barracks*

“Ya know this ain’t right you goin’ off by yourself again without so much as an adieu to Athos and Aramis.” Porthos helped the boy pack his supplies. Slinging the bags over his broad shoulders, Porthos followed d’Artagnan down to the stables. Up until now the lad hadn’t spoken overmuch on his assignment.

Readying Zad, d’Artagnan gratefully accepted the bags from his large, curious friend. “My thanks, Porthos.”

Giving the youngster a boost up on his horse, Porthos’s grim face told its own story. Laying a friendly hand on d’Artagnan’s leg he stared up into the all too young features of the boy. “What am I to tell them this time?”

Shrugging, a smile pulling at his lips, d’Artagnan managed to laugh. “Same thing as last time.”

“Like that’s going to calm them down,” Porthos growled. “Seems like you’re runnin’ away from us all the time.”

“Out of the three of you I think you’re the only one that doesn’t treat me like a misbegotten child,” d’Artagnan gazed off into the distance then grinned, “well most of the time that is.” Feeling Zad’s restlessness underneath him, d’Artagnan knew he should be setting off. “You had a difficult path to becoming a Musketeer,” he briefly glanced into Portho’s concerned brown eyes. “You of all people must understand my need for a show of independence from time to time.”

It was more than independence guiding the boy’s way and Porthos knew it but did d’Artagnan? “Lad, you don’t have to prove nothin’ to any of us,” Porthos replied gruffly. “Labarge can attest to that.” Hearing the boy sigh, he patted d’Artagnan’s leg letting him go on his way. “Just promise me you’ll stay safe.”

“You know me,” d’Artagnan winked and urged Zad outside. Then waving at Porthos he left the dark-skinned Musketeer behind him.

“Unfortunately I do know you, boyo,” Porthos grumbled as he trudged away, “that’s half the problem.”

++++

*The Hawk’s Eye Tavern/Bordello*

“That boy sure knows how to work a crowd,” Bellamy remarked to the barkeep. He had been watching Alain since he arrived several days ago. ‘I wonder if he’s takin’ anyone upstairs yet.”

“Not that one,” Fabien snorted as he put clean glasses on top of the bar. “Right picky that lad is,” he sighed. “His prettiness makes up for it though.”

Playing his part as Alain, d’Artagnan disliked this job immensely and promised himself a word or two with Rochefort later. Better yet, an illegal duel between them would be much better. They had crossed swords once before and d’Artagnan had beaten the older man, much to Rochefort’s surprise. D’Artagnan relished the thought of doing it again just to get back at the comte for this mission. 

Pretending to play the part, d’Artagnan flitted from one man to the next. This wasn’t exactly in the job description he had signed up for to become a Musketeer but needs must. The intimate touches of the men he had talked with in past days came back to haunt him. D’Artagnan tried very hard to forget Luc’s tongue ramming down his throat as the odious man kissed him last night.

But he was garnering pertinent information little by little that was needed on Mantel Dunstan’s agenda and hopefully, if he were very lucky, d’Artagnan would even manage to find out where the man’s hideout was. This was his fourth day here and there was still more he needed to learn before he called it quits.

Nursing a glass of lager, d’Artagnan was leaning on the edge of the bar conversing with a coarse looking individual. Without warning the man reached out and pulled him forward until their lips smashed together in a parody of a kiss. Pushing away from him awkwardly, d’Artagnan laughed. “Non... non... non!” he wagged a finger at the man. “I let you touch me when I say so.”

Delmon was not pleased that this lovely, young thing denied him his pleasure, but one look into the boy’s cold eyes told him it would be wise, just this once, to listen to him.

So focused on his reprimand of Delmon, d’Artagnan didn’t see the arrival of three men who just came into the tavern, taking a table far off in a darkened corner.

++++

“Aramis, tell me again why we stopped here?” Athos slapped his hat on top of their table, dust billowing off it making his other two companions cough slightly.

“It’s on the way home and I was thirsty.” Aramis removed his own hat, running fingers through his dust covered curls. “We could have found a better route to reach Paris, I must say.”

“Yeah,” Porthos grunted. “Dust was never my favorite choice of food.” Waving a boy over to the table to take their order, he watched his two friends looking around the establishment disdainfully. “You two know this place’s reputation?” Porthos smirked seeing twin blank expressions blinking back at him. “It doubles as a bordello.”

“If that’s the case,” Aramis seemed pleased until he caught Athos’s dark look.

“Non!” Athos remarked sharply. “If you must, wait until we reach Paris,” he noted Aramis’s pout, it was not nearly as effective as d’Artagnan’s. “I’m sure the ladies back home will appreciate your charms all the more for missing them.”

Tuning out Athos admonishing the other man, Porthos observed that there was something slightly different about this tavern. Not a dolly in sight. “I get the feelin’ this might not be a place where Aramis can lose himself in a willing woman’s arms.”

“What are you on about, Porthos?” Aramis snorted into his glass of wine that had just arrived.

“You’ve got eyes,” Porthos barked, “use them.”

Both Athos and Aramis did just that and noticed a young man being handled rather intimately down over the other end of the bar.

If anyone had touched his manhood in that manner they would have found themselves gutted without hesitation. Athos continued to watch the young man converse with the lowly fellow. The boy was turned sideways blocking Athos’s view of his face, but he could tell the lad was young. Too young to be plying his trade in this den of iniquity but alas such was life.

Aramis shook his head sadly as he turned back to watched Porthos’s amused face. “It’s a sad state of affairs when things have come to this.”

“Sad for you ya mean?” Porthos laughed while Athos snickered. As he continued to watch the interactions of the patrons, it struck him strangely that the lad they had all seen seemed familiar to him. Just when he was trying to figure out why, he heard the boy’s laughter reach him. “Non! It can’t be!”

Seeing his big friend’s astonishment, Aramis wondered what happened to place that look on Porthos’s face. Putting a hand on his comrade’s shoulder he tried to find out what was wrong.“What is troubling you?”

“Listen,” Porthos snapped. “That kid’s laughter just now.”

Perking his ears up, Athos tilted his head slightly as he took in the gay sounds of the boy Porthos was talking about. Then he nearly spilled out of his chair as he realized who he was listening too. “Mon dieu!”

“I thought you told us d’Artagnan was sent on a mission by Treville,” Aramis was stunned at what he was seeing thinking perhaps he had drunk too much wine and this was merely a delusion that would evaporate shortly when his head cleared. In the meantime Athos looked like a thundercloud, lightning ready to strike out at anyone accosting their youngest. 

“Perhaps d’Artagnan stopped here like us,” Porthos offered, but being an eye witness to what the lad seemed to be doing suggested otherwise.

“In a pig’s eye!” Athos snarled as he finally found his voice. He was floored as he caught sight of their young one clearly enjoying the attentions of a crude looking older man. “This… this was his assignment?” he was outraged on d’Artagnan’s behalf. “I can’t believe Treville agreed to this!” he hissed.

The tone Athos used brought back unpleasant memories for Aramis of when he and his comrade were trapped back at the convent in defense of Queen Anne. “It was Rochefort’s plan, or so the captain informed us.”

“Yes but Treville signed off on it,” Porthos growled, ready to go over and tear that man off d’Artagnan.

“Patience, mon amis,” Aramis tried to be the voice of reason here. It would appear this was d’Artagnan’s assignment and they had no right to interfere in it. “Sit back, drink your wine and wait.”

“For someone to grab the boy by the hair and drag him upstairs!” Athos’s tried to lower his voice so as not to draw unwanted attention to their table, but he could cheerfully have throttled Rochefort if he were anywhere around.

++++

Talking to Bernard, d’Artagnan let the man kiss the side of his neck as he whispered a question him. Getting his answer, d’Artagnan artfully danced away from Bernard's touch to neatly turn around and start up another conversation with Francois, who was patiently waiting his turn to chat d’Artagnan up.

The grey haired man placed one of his hands on d’Artagnan’s rear, squeezing one cheek none too gently. Then he instantly regretted his decision as Francois felt a grip of iron around his wrist and a jeweled dagger at his throat. The jewels glowed softly in the dim lighting from the candles that illuminated the tavern. “Earned that for services rendered did ya, boy?” his foul breath wafted over the youngster’s face.

“I’m very good at what I do,” d’Artagnan whispered in the man’s ear, his dagger nipped at Francois’s chin. “If you’re fond of that hand you’ll never do that again,” he warned softly. Then d’Artagnan moved down the end of the bar to lean with his back against it looking over the crowd, which gave him a better view of everyone coming and going.

Feeling Maurice’s hand slip inside his shirt, d’Artagnan playfully slapped it away. “Tis a shame that no one knows where Dunstan is.” he sighed dramatically. “I’d turn him in for the reward money if I could.” Feeling his chin grabbed and his head forcibly turned toward another drunkard, d’Artagnan’s hand was gripping his dagger hard once again.

“Name’s Hugues and I know where Dunstan is... for a kiss,” he cackled, showing his missing teeth.

Figuring he’d come this far he might as well go for it. “A kiss?” d’Artagnan quirked his lips upward. “I’ll pay that price.” Leaning toward Hugues he closed his eyes and felt the wet mouth on his own as he tried not to gag.

++++

“Merde!” Athos was half standing up ready to go over and stop d’Artagnan until he was forcibly pulled back down by Aramis. Stabbing Porthos with a penetrating look, Aramis held up his finger in warning seeing his huge friend about to do the same thing. "Don't! Either of you!" he hissed desperately, hoping no one in the tavern was watching them. "D'Artagnan was assigned a fact finding mission, we all understood that" Aramis snapped. "Don't turn this into a meaningless brawl and shaming the boy in the process.”

“Don’t you care that this is d’Artagnan we’re talking about?” Athos tried to drag his gaze away from the picture of the boy kissing that lout.

“That’s an insane question to ask of me!” Aramis’s own temper was on a thin edge now to the point where he felt like boxing the ears of both his friends.

++++

As d’Artagnan exchanged kisses with Hugues he was heartily glad his friends were nowhere around to see him debase himself in this manner. Placing a finger on the man’s lips, d’Artagnan leaned back and studied Hughes shrewdly. “You had your kiss now I want my answer.”

“Mantel Dunstan is a cagey bird,” Hughes harsh laughter filled the space between them. “He’s been camped in plain sight and no one the wiser.”

“Where?” d’Artagnan asked, impatient for the information now that he was so close.

“Two hours out of Clichy in the forest.”

“My thanks. Perhaps now I can make my fortune,” d’Artagnan winked at him, pushing Hugues away from him as gently as he could.

“Aw, come on, my beauty,” a man bigger than Porthos grabbed d’Artagnan around the waist, spinning him around like a top. “Wouldn’t you like a big, strappin’ man like myself in your bed?”

“Let me think about it,” d’Artagnan smiled charmingly at the giant, “and I’ll get back to you.” The man quietly chuckled as d’Artagnan extricated himself from the firm grip without much of a fuss to his amazement.

As d’Artagnan sauntered away from the bar still nursing his solitary glass of lager, he couldn’t help but notice his three friends in attendance. Their faces seemed to have been leeched of all color and it didn’t take a genius to figure out the cause. “Don’t tell me the captain finally broke down and told you where to find me?”

“Would you believe we only made this stop simply because my throat was parched,” Aramis chuckled as he gestured to their round of drinks.

“Hey, Alain!” Fabien called out from behind the bar. “You’ve been here nearly four days and you haven’t taken anyone to your bed yet! We’ve been taking bets!”

Glancing Athos’s way, d’Artagnan’s eyes danced with mischief. “I have now!” he shouted back. Standing up, he held out his hand toward Athos. Seeing his mentor’s startled face almost made d’Artagnan feel guilty for putting him on the spot... almost that is. “Come on,” he huffed, “we have to make this look real.”

“Kissing will not be involved or I stay put,” Athos grunted his displeasure and scowled down at Aramis and Porthos as both men had tears of laughter running down their faces.

“Well there may be a hug or two,” d’Artagnan winked at his other two friends who seemed to have lost total control of themselves laughing themselves silly.

“Eh, Athos, go with the pretty lad,” Porthos urged, wiping the tears from his dark eyes.

“You do need to get out and about more, my dear man,” Aramis chortled. “Too much solitary confinement makes one dull as dishwater.”

“Lead the way, d’Artagnan, before I decide to bang their heads together.” As Athos took the youngster’s hand, d’Artagnan led him up a long staircase but paused halfway up when he heard chanting from the patrons cheering the lad on. He refused to be bothered by it, but by the time they had arrived at d’Artagnan’s room, his face was cherry red.

Entering the single room, d’Artagnan flopped bonelessly down on the hard bed, staring at the ceiling with his arms folded on top of his stomach. “You should feel honored, Athos,” he winked as his friend pulled a face.

“So, I am the first then?” Athos asked gruffly as he sat on the edge of the bed beside the boy.

“And the last,” d’Artagnan sat back up, crossing his legs Indian style.

“Did you get what you were after?” Athos was still reeling from the shock of discovering what d’Artagnan had been up too.

“Enough to satisfy the Comte.” D’Artagnan observed Athos’s frown deepen. “What?”

“I know how I’d like to satisfy Rochefort,” Athos seethed, “with my fist in his face.”

“Look, nothing bad happened,” d’Artagnan sighed and ran a hand through his tangled hair. “All I need is a nice hot bath and it’ll wash away their disgusting touches.”

“Just like that?” Athos was skeptcial that the lad could be so nonchalant over all that had taken place.

“I may admit to a nightmare or two in the coming days,” d’Artagnan grimaced as Athos’s face darkened even further.

“That dagger you used earlier on that one man, isn’t that what King Louis gifted you with after you saved his life last month?”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan nodded. “I figured it would make the part I played more believable if they thought I earned that for my services.”

“How long do we have to be up here,” Athos’s tone was dry as his throat. He could really use a drink.

“Give it at least an hour to make a good showing,” d’Artagnan grinned at him. “Which reminds me,” he untangled his legs, swinging them over the bedside to lean over and pull Athos to him. “I did warn you there may be hugs.”

Placing a hand behind the young man’s neck, Athos tugged the boy close again. “I will say one thing for you,” he snorted, “you’d make it on the stage if you ever needed a side job.”

“Being a Musketeer is enough for me.” Then d’Artagnan had a thought. “I hope Porthos and Aramis aren’t too much in their cups by the time we get back downstairs because I’d like to leave shortly.”

“We’ll tie them to their mounts if need be,” Athos was in complete agreement with the boy in wanting to put as much distance as possible between them and this hellish place.

++++

*Musketeer garrison - Captain Treville’s office*

“Well, d’Artagnan, I believe Comte Rochefort will be pleased at the results you’ve gotten.” Observing the youth carefully he wanted to make sure the boy was really all right. “No injuries to speak of?”

“For once, non.” D’Artagnan blew at a piece of hair that fell into his eyes as he heard the captain’s soft snickering. “It’s the truth, sir.”

“I’ll take your word for it *this* time.” Sitting back in his chair, Treville noticed the satisfied smile on d’Artagnan’s face. “I believe you’ve earned a week off the roster.” Seeing the boy’s face brighten considerably at his gesture, Treville was glad to do it.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Go on, get out of here,” Treville motioned with his hands. “Don’t get into trouble.” It would probably be prudent to remind the lad of something else before he left. “If you get it into your head to challenge the Comte over all this... don’t! And that’s all the warning I’ll give you.”

Seeing d’Artagnan’s eyes widened, Treville shook his head fondly. “You thought I didn’t know about the last time?”

Hanging his head down, d’Artagnan couldn’t meet the captain’s eyes.

“You didn’t hear this from me,” Treville winked, “but I was delighted to know you won that match.”

Beaming and with a jaunty salute, d’Artagnan walked out the door and into the arms of his waiting brothers. Joining them at the bottom of the stairs, d’Artagnan noticed a giant of a man dressed as a Red Guard crossing the grounds. He looked quite familiar to d’Artagnan as his memory tried to place him.

“What is it, d’Artagnan?’ Porthos watched the boy’s gaze turn toward the Red Guard, wondering what that was all about. Praying the kid wouldn’t get into another skirmish so soon after their return.

“I’m not sure,” d’Artagnan pulled away from the others to approach the Red Guard, leaving behind his worried friends. “Excuse me, I know this may be a strange question, but were you at The Hawk’s Eye recently?”

Observing the young Musketeer looking back at him inquisitively, the Red Guard known as Gerard grinned at d’Artagnan. “Oui, I was assigned to make sure you came to no harm by orders of Comte Rochefort.”

“I had a guardian angel the whole time and didn’t know it,” d’Artagnan laughed and held out his hand. “Now I remember,” he exclaimed in shock. “You grabbed me by the waist but released me without any trouble.”

“Thought about it and then realized you were a bit to skinny for my tastes,” Gerard eyed the boy and shook his head. “Need more meat on those bones, lad.” Grinning he strode away.

Laying a hand on d’Artagnan’s back, Porthos watched the Red Guard leave. “I’ve been tellin’ you that since we first met.”

“Seems Rochefort isn’t such a bastard after all, eh, Athos?” Aramis snickered.

“Let’s not start putting halos on the Comte’s head just yet, gentlemen,” Athos retorted swiftly. “A leopard seldom changes its spots.”

“Eh?” Porthos looked at Athos strangely. “What’s all this rubbish about leopards and spots got to do with Rochefort?”

“I can see a part of your education in the Court of Miracles was sadly lacking, mon ami,” Aramis quipped. “No worries, Porthos, we’ll explain it over lunch.” With a glance at d’Artagnan, Aramis winked at their youngest. “Drinks are on our lad here.”

“Hey!” D’Artagnan punched Aramis on the man’s pauldron. “Why me?”

“You’re the one with the jeweled dagger and you can ask me that?” Aramis huffed, but he knew the boy figured he was jesting and wasn’t truly annoyed.

“Seems like someone should be buying me a round after all I went through to get that information,” d’Artagnan gave them all the puppy eyes and pouted for good measure.

“Wondered when he’d turn them doe eyes on us,” Porthos grunted.

Tapping d’Artagnan on the shoulder, Athos turned his own amused blue eyes on the child. “I heard that The Singing Mermaids looking to hire a young man of your obvious talents.”

Playfully pushing his mentor away, d’Artagnan rolled his eyes. “I get the message, guys.” He gave up knowing he couldn’t fight all three of them and win. “Lunch at The Golden Eagle then and I’ll buy the first round of drinks,” he grinned. “After that you’re on your own.”

“Knew the kid would see it our way,” Porthos slapped the boy on the back. “Always said he was the brightest of us all.”

The End


End file.
